A Hero Comes Home
by Bryher
Summary: Based on the song by Idina for the Beowulf soundtrack. The knights return. ONESHOT


Title: A Hero Comes Home

Summary: The knights return- a barmaid's point of view.

Rating; T

Author's Notes: Next in line. Dedicated to Gargoyle13 and Homeric, just for being lovely. Thank you. Based on Idina's 'A Hero Comes Home' from the BEOWULF soundtrack.

* * *

Tristan leant against a pillar in his usual corner, ale in one hand and a knife in the other. I watched as Galahad swore and stepped away from the marker, his knife having landed just outside the target's centre. Tristan stepped up, barely pausing before he launched his knife through the air.

It quivered from the centre of the target.

I shook my head with a smile before continuing to pick up empty mugs as Gawain grumpily exclaimed that it was fluke. It was never fluke. Not with Tristan.

They came home today, much to Vanora's relief. Setting the mugs on the side to be washed, I leant my hands against the bar and watched my boss, who was currently telling her lover off for a hole in his breeches. It had appeared through general wear and tear, though you would have thought for all the world that Bors had ripped the cloth with his own bare hands.

After a minute, Bors grabbed her, kissing her soundly. 'Shut up, woman,' he said softly. Vanora hung in his arms, mouth partially open in shock. He bent his head, kissing the tip of her nose. 'More ale, my dove.'

Vanora looked at me, mouth still agape as Bors made his way back through the crowds to the knights' table. 'Don't look like that,' I said softly, patting her arm as I refilled a pitcher. 'You're happy that he got that hole from wearing them so much. If it had been an arrow hole, you'd be lost.'

Vanora gave me a sour look and slammed a cup down in front of a soldier, who jumped, startled. Everyone in the tavern had seen that look before, and it didn't bode well.

'If he asks for a song, you tell him that he can shove it where-'

'Vanora!' I shrieked, laughing. 'You're impossible.'

'And you're neglecting your table,' she replied, not unkindly. I glanced over at the knights, who were looking around for the nearest barmaid. 'Bollocks,' I murmured, seeing that Demetrius, one of the more rambunctious Roman soldiers, was sat at the table next to them, roaring drunk. Vanora followed my gaze. 'You want the skillet?'

'Aye,' I said grimly, picking up at laden tray in one hand, and reaching out for the skillet with the other. 'I don't know why you don't just ban him,' I groused, stepping around the bar. I lost Vanora's reply to the crowd.

Slipping through gaps and lifting the tray as far over my head as I could manage, I wove through the tavern, using the skillet to knock away the adventurous hands. It wasn't that I was particularly pretty- merely that the whores had plied their trades this hour, and were off working elsewhere in the fort. Which left the barmaids to cope with the rest of the soldiers.

Passing Demetrius, I jumped out of the way as his hands fumbled for my waist. I felt hands at my back, steadying me as I swung the skillet threateningly. 'You keep your hands off, Demetrius,' I warned.

The Roman leered. 'You not working tonight, Lena?' he said sweetly, smiling too widely and too nicely. 'I'm not a whore,' I replied shortly, turning to the knights. Dagonet too his hands from my back and reached for the tray instead. 'Thank you,' I said quietly, helping him unload the mugs.

'Lena-' Galahad said suddenly, before I was yanked backward, the skillet flying out of my grasp. Turning my back was a mistake. I struggled against Demetrius as he laughed, arms clamped around my waist. Dagonet stood, along with Gawain and Lancelot. Promptly, I was released. Jumping up, I turned and slapped the Roman as hard as I could manage, and felt something in my hand give. Pain washed up my arm and I stepped back hurriedly, jaw clenched. Demetrius rose, furious. Tristan stepped up to his side and murmured something.

Demetrius glared at me, then sat, turning his back.

The scout looked at my hand and frowned. I followed his gaze and whimpered- the index finger on my right hand was bent at an unnatural angle. The pain returned with a vengeance, and I felt tears prick behind my eyes. Tristan's hand closed around my forearm as he led me out of the tavern and into the alley behind it.

Gripping my hand, he looked into my eyes, the amber light from the torches dancing in his gaze. 'This will hurt,' he said softly. I nodded, closing my eyes.

His warm fingers closed around mine and then tightened. I cried out as I heard-and felt- my finger crunching back into place. Snatching my hand from him, I cradled it to my chest and swore. A cloak settled around my shoulders, and I looked up, surprised. 'Thank you,' I said softly, wiping away a stray tear with the back of my uninjured hand. Tristan nodded, looked behind me as the back door of the tavern swung open, revealing Vanora.

'That, bastard,' she raged, 'is _banned_. Are you alright, Lena?'

I lifted my hand from underneath the cloak, showing her my newly mended finger. 'I'm alright,' I said, embarrassed. 'I'm sorry if I've caused trouble, Van.'

She waved her hand in agitation. 'I just wish I'd gotten there first.' She looked from me to Tristan and back 'I don't think you should come back in for a while, though. I can ban Demetrius, but not his men.' I panicked then, stepping forward.

'No, Vanora! Please don't fire me- I need this job.' My heart began to pound- if I couldn't afford the rent on the tiny room I had in the old barracks, I'd be homeless. Winter had just finished, but the air was still chilly- there was no way I could live on the streets.

Vanora looked confused for a moment, then smiled. 'I meant this evening, Lena,' she said gently. 'Come back at closing time.'

'Oh,' I said stupidly, feeling a blush rising up my face. 'But… what do I do until then?'

'We will take a walk,' Tristan said behind me. I jumped, forgetting that he was there. Vanora raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. 'You'll take a walk,' she repeated. 'Don't leave her on her own, Tristan. Demetrius might not have gone back to his room.'

The light and noise of the tavern were shut off as Vanora closed the door behind her. My eyes danced with little lights as I tried to adjust to the semi- darkness.

'Where are we going, then?' I asked after a moment. Tristan motioned for me to follow him, and I obeyed, stumbling slightly on the cobbles.

After a few minutes walking in silence, we reached the outer door of the stables. 'The stables?' I said, delighted. I loved horses, and took every opportunity to watch them in the paddocks or in training with the knights. Sometimes, if I had some spare pay, I would buy apples and take them to the stables- Jols would turn a blind eye, and each horse would get a slice of apple.

'You like horses, don't you?' the scout replied, and I stopped. Tristan turned to look at me. 'You feed them apples- I saw you, a month ago.' There was nothing accusatory in his tone, no annoyance in his eyes. 'I- uh…sorry,' I finished lamely. A ghost of a smile tilted the corners of his lips and I smiled back, more surprised than anything.

Inside, the air was warm and dry, the gentle noise of hooves on straw and the breathing of the horses filling the air. Tristan motioned for me to follow him to the back, where the stands were. 'Sit.'

I sat, watching as one by one, he released his own and six other horses from their stables.

'That one,' he said, boosting himself up beside me, 'is Gawain's. That one Galahad's, the one behind it trying to push past for the hay is Lancelot's.'

I grinned happily, before noticing that one of the other horses had a wound to it's flank. 'What happened to that one?' I asked.

Tristan followed my gaze and frowned. 'Dagonet's. The Woads shot her, trying to topple him off.'

'It was a close call, this time, wasn't it?' I said softly, looking at him. 'I could tell when you all came back. You looked so tired. All of you.'

Tristan didn't reply, looking down at his hands. They were calloused and worn with weapons. I looked at my own hands, the right one swollen at my finger. They were calloused too, from tavern work and tilling the fields. Mine were much smaller than his, and paler, too. 'What happened?'

Tristan took a sharp breath. 'No one has ever asked that before,' he said quietly.

'I'm asking now.'

So we sat, and we talked. I forgot all about closing time, but Vanora wasn't angry with me. My hand swelled up to the point where I couldn't work for a couple of days anyway. Tristan and I continued to talk- on the ramparts, in the orchard, in the stables, one night after the tavern was closed we sat on the bar until daybreak, just talking.

Every time the knights ride out, I wait for them to return. They always come home. A hero always comes home.


End file.
